At the Crossroads
by XIntangible StriderX
Summary: A lone jedi on the path to rebellion defies everything he knows for a longshot chance at redemption


Where dwelled the past? Smitten beneath shards of vague trespass, cloaked by passage of time. An enigma that bent, elusive, evading perception by the Galaxy's greatest minds, in their forays to discern it. To cast slivers of light into the darkness of the unknown, and return with troves of knowledge snatched from the brink. 

It seemed inevitable that some secrets were destined to remain shrouded in the realm of the unknown. Unimaginable wonders locked away beneath earth and wave, lost and forgotten. A lonesome fate, to remain undisturbed till the day man forged the ability to penetrate the labyrinth of the forgotten.

Yet, obsession often succeeded where rational minds could not...

Amber depths peered through mottled gloom. Shards of glowrod fire casting illuminating rivulets upon stalactites & stalagmites. Iron shod boots crunching through gravel and dust. The remnants of civilization scattered about, lain unseen by mortal eyes for a millennia.

Within his chest, heart beat with mingled lust and fury. The culmination of years spent focused upon a single goal -- perhaps soon to be realized. The feeling surged through him, seeping through every pore of his being, sweeping away plaguing doubts and steadfast worries, he'd never even realized existed. Breathing through drab synthcloth bandana fastened about his nose and mouth, he paced further into the darkness. Amber hues alert for traps or ambush, perspiration dotting the youthful brow, he set his will against the empowering urge to hasten his steps. He would not allow himself to be sloppy. Not even now.

His life, was not the only one in jeopardy.

* * *

Paradox brewed. Embers fed by single minded plight. Searing embrace lilted, illuminating dusk. The radiance driving lances of remembrance into the hearts of shadows.

Lifting his glowrod, Cross glanced about, amber hues mottled by a mix of disbelief laced with something approaching euphoria. An alien landscape composed of artifacts and ruins constructed with what looked like three to five dimensional perspectives in mind littered the area. The architects of the Cityscape apparently harbored a liking for curves and arches over the blocky designs favored by terrans. Their buildings and implements evidencing a complexity and balance of design he'd never imagined possible. It was a miracle. He shouldn't even be here, he thought. Awed footfalls carrying him nearer the dominant structure poised dead center of the spherical layout, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of foreboding within the pervasive silence. Directly ahead, a spherical mass of matter, various forms of visible energy and nameless phenomena blended into a coherent whole. Gases seemed to inhabit certain areas, casting transparent hues -- random visual effects, synthetic-organic matter, alloys and other things he couldn't begin to describe characterized the structure. Jutting up like some ancient monolith its time scarred facade light and dark, material yet ethereal, simple and complex all at the same time. From his years of research he knew that what he could see composed approximately 33 of the functional whole. The creator's of the city had used infra-red, radiation, radio waves & an assortment of non-visible energies melded into various matrixes with forms of matter, energy even light to construct their tools, buildings and ships. The entire Cityscape itself was wrapped within a protective shell only 1 meter thick. Cross' own lightsaber had failed to scratch the amorphous outer surface. The blades energy was somehow conducted evenly along the outer shell, evenly absorbed by every molecule and stored for future use. It'd taken an Ultra Heavy Turbolaser stolen off a SSD and welded atop his stock light freighter to blast a big enough hole to gain entry. Though his freighter commonly lifted burdens in excess of 200 metric tons, he'd barely gotten off the ground.

That had been the least of his troubles.

If only she were here to see this, Cross thought.

The past 6 months had taken him from one side of the galaxy to the other. A blur of events, spurred on by tragedy. Slender digits caressed cold durasteel laced with wooden inlays -- his lightsaber. Thin sheen of perspiration dotting his brow, motes of dust obscured by synthcloth bandana strewn lightly across his nose and mouth, he gazed about in awe. A roar of thunder, shook the earth beneath his booted feet. Verdant flashes of green raining down upon the barren landscape outside. A banshee like wail of repulsorlifts. His mysterious pursuers had found him. Resisting the urge to hasten his steps, his consciousness delved into the mode of thought that allowed him to perceive the force. It was like waking up from a long sleep. His senses expanding outwards mind showered with a torrent of information narrowing his own field of vision to a tunnel -- to the circling ships overhead, and their pilots. No. His pursuers hadn't found him. They'd merely hoped to flush him out by firing randomly about the canyons. Sooner or later they'd spot his concealed ship, but for the moment his presence seemed undetected. How had they found him? Again. It was something he'd think about. Later. Wary of his own stealthy footfalls upon the solid, yet yielding surface of the floor his mind focused upon the strange vergences in the force he sensed within the ancient chamber. He knew all too well of the capabilities of the alien technology embedded into the very molecules garnering the spherical dwelling space. To hasten his steps might mean certain death. Force or no force. Steady footfalls carried him up an elaborate array of staircases, feet clad within protective embrace of boots resonating strangely throughout. The floor trembled beneath his feet at the shock of a proton torpedo striking the mountains beyond. Cresting the last echelon of stairs, dead center of the chamber, something writhed upon an ornate pedestal. Rainbow hued flames danced, amongst black and gray shards of fire, complemented by blazes of white. An amazing mandala of visual acuity contained -- if it could be called that, within a harness of electromagnetic and laser like energy matrix. A slender sheath entwining the mass -- the only part that could be touched by living hands. Scarcely believing his eyes, Cross stretched forth a hand... At last, he'd found what he'd searched so long for.

* * *

"You don't want to do that."

The voice echoed impressively through the chamber. A familiar presence in the force. On my guard I turned towards the pinhole the SSD borrowed Turbolaser had etched in the side of the alien spheroid, a belly full of dread for company. Silhouetted adjacent the breach stood the very last person I expected to see.

And some unexpected company.

Along with 20 blaster rifles pointed directly at my face. Gauging the distance to the Matrix whirling all aflame, oblivious to the tension that suddenly turned the air to a dense matter, I grinned. How could I not? "Nice to see you again... brother." I nodded in what I thought were a friendly manner. My amber hued eyes taking in nothing but cold rifle muzzles and hard, unsmiling faces. The man who'd addressed me nodded in turn. Introductions made, perhaps not quite, there were 20 men with rifles I didn't know, but Vance and I both knew they didn't count, not here, not now. It was time to get down to business.

Delving down to the depths of my soul, merging my will, my peace with awareness of the force -- a radiance, a confidence washed over me, illuminating every pore of my being. I saw myriad links in the force. Chains of cause and effect on a micro cosmic scale that might drive the events of the present. Heartbeat. A flash of lightning. That was Vance's force aura, vibrant and hot in my mind's eye it burned like a consuming flame. Dextrous digits itching to have the familiar form of lightsaber hilt in hand, I refrained. "A Jedi used the Force for Knowledge and Defense only."

But little did they know the Force was not the only Ally a Jedi might have.

* * *

_Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite._

_Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody._

_But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?_

_Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul._

_If either your sails or our rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas._

_For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction._

_Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion; that it may sing;_

_And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes._

_I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two loved guests in your house._

_Surely you would not honour one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both._

_Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows - then let your heart say in silence, "God rests in reason."_

_And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, - then let your heart say in awe, "God moves in passion."_

_And since you are a breath In God's sphere, and a leaf in God's forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion."_ (from: The PROPHET, by Kahlil Gibran)

Heartbeat. Those words, spoken so long ago. The verse had long since ended. A lullaby of golden times sung by muse with lilting tongue and bright eyes. Soon to break into blazing chorus...

* * *

Palm resting on the reassuring presence of my lightsaber, slender digits thumbed a hidden toggle worked into one wooden inlay.

No response.

Meters away, Vance smirked. I knew it wasn't because he'd gotten lucky with a twi'lek dancer, or stayed in a Corellian Inn, last night. He'd jammed my frequency. Within my mind, that raised him up a notch. Not only was he a fool, but now a fool who could learn from his past mistakes. How ironic that important lessons should be an exception.

A blinding light filtered through the pinprick cut into spheroid's side. Dropping down to the deck, covering ears with palms of my hand a frenzied wash of dust and dirt scattered up and over me. The earth shook and quivered -- I felt rather than saw a crimson kill bolt arch some meters above me to strike the far wall. Repressing a grin -- thanking my ancestors for my droid counterpart back in the ship, who noticed my communications being jammed, I stripped off my cloak.

Thankfully, it was my least favorite...

Coughing at the dust, 17 rifle wielding men, waited for the so-called: "Jedi" to show his face. 3 were unmoving shapes on the ground.

So, it had finally come to this.

The thin veneer of civilization rubbed away beneath abrasive ego's and greed.

The curtain of folly opened -- to reveal the theater of the absurd behind it.

Shucking threadbare khaki cloak embracing my shoulders, slender digits delved within concealed pockets sewn into the motley interior. Screened by dust and airborne ash dwindling about like a black cloud, vague silhouettes of men toting assault rifles retreated to the far wall. Amber depths narrowing at the military leap-frog tactics, as they retreated.

My own saffron hued lightsaber legendary for its characteristic of severing molecular bonds on a near atomic scale, had an effective range about the length of my arm. Gathering beloved cloak in hand I leapt the 10 meter span opposite the staircase...

* * *

_The jedi_.

We'd tracked him 6 months if it'd been a day. Dogged him like a tauntaun in heat, till the weariness had etched itself into skin and bone. My eyelids felt like miniature hutts. The Blastech A-280 I carried at high port, seemed to have two tractor beams worth of extra heft to it.

I'd heard the stories. Whispered in hushed voices by hardened criminals, as if fearful slander of the would be heros of the galaxy might be overheard. The stories. Recited with prideful tenor in the homes of the righteous. No mortal could look into the eyes of a jedi, without risk of having their soul laid bare. The jedi knew. They always did.

We'd been more than 2000 strong in the beginning. 100 score against a man a droid, and a rundown Rendili Light Corvette. Despite the myths, half of our number hadn't perished at the touch of a laser sword. Nor had the Jedi cast bolts of lightning at us from his eyes or even throttled us to death via an unseen force.

The reality of the situation was far worse.

* * *

Curiouser and curiouser...

"How d, friends. Its Cross."

_It was the jedi, he was talking again. He'd chosen his ground well this time. The spherical internals of the artifact's interior having acoustical properties comparable to being within a ancient amphitheater, his voice reverberated loudly, reflected off the concaves. Impossible to tell where his voice was coming from._

"Put the capes down fellas, this' no time to be heros."

_At a glance, I saw patches of perspiration collecting on the brow's of those around me -- including Vance. Our own force user had been no defense against speech and words. Gritting my teeth, hating the thought of sending anyone within lightsaber range of a jedi, I gave the order to flank and "Go in:_ **stealth on**

"Dont make me put you in a cell with Yarna."

_On the extreme left and right, 4 silhouettes went transparent. Krail1010 armor laced with photoreactive paint blending seamlessly into the visual spectrum. "Ghosts, go for line of sight." I couldn't see them, their armor making them all but invisible, but knew they'd move to positions affording them clear shots should the jedi show himself._

"As the old man said: Our choices and decisions create destiny."

_Holding up 3 fingers and a slash across the wrist -- 3 of our green troops plucked grenades from their belts, the explosive loads proof of how desperate we had become. Instead of the stunners or flashbangs we'd normally use against a jedi, the rookies hefted cryoban 318's. With an explosive range of nearly 4 meters each, the emitters venting a gas that would drop the temperature of any molecule in range to -2000 degrees. With normal enemies death would be certain._

"Why, do you choose to be defeated?"

_With this opponent, I wasn't certain it'd even slow him down._

* * *

"I know you." Within the relic sphere, a blaze of scarlet erupted washing the surrounding space in mottled, turbolaser red hues. "You speak of times of peace for all. Then, prepare for war." Scarlet fire bent back on itself, forming a cylinder of crimson laser light, fixed to an ebony durasteel handle.  
Lit in shades of red, cast by the humming blade of his lightsaber, Vance's cerulean hues met my gaze. Maneuvering the blade through a intricate pattern in salute, he adopted an en guarde posture. Waited. Patiently. For me to draw my own blade. So we could fight. Possibly, kill each other.  
The galaxy had gone insane. Glancing down, amber hued sight was greeted with a visual of the thing I'd sought these past 6 months. A lifetime. Wrapped within tattered, threadbare remains of my dun brown cloak, its presence seemed to thicken the air. Slow my heartbeat, till reality resembled a series of still frames laid bare to the core, at my convenience.  
It was power beyond mortal comprehension. Some believed too much power for any sentient being to wield with impunity. Power had a way of seducing even the most ardent of men & women into its welcoming embrace. But, the path I'd taken in life had led me to a fork of 2 options. To standby and watch, helplessly, while she withered and waned, till the life departed from her body. Or, to defy everything I'd protected and sacrificed for, even to taking armed conflict against my fellow jedi. Refusing to draw against my brother, the siren song of the artifact keened, calling out to me as slender digits gently eased it to the ground, supernatural energies it exuded, augmenting my natural abilities -- I stepped away from the alien device, feeling myself lessen to be away from it. Defying all I'd believed in was a mighty effort upon my conscience. Heaven forbid I should harm my own brother in the process. "You think.. you know me." I whispered. "Which probably means.. You don't."

* * *

_5 years earlier_

It was a crossroads of sorts. The jedi were good company. Businesses prospered under their free protection. Bastions of higher ideals, veritable pillars that many believed had once supported the Republic for a thousand years. The assembly of Jedi on this backroads planet attracted many who shared similar perspectives. Thieves and fringe types had begun shipping off planet by the bunch the moment it'd been publicly announced Jedi would begin training on-site. To be replaced by pacifists, and gentler souls -- those who walked the path of peace and enlightenment. It was an interesting place to live, where one might travel outdoors without locking their dwellings. Where people tended towards the courteous and kind.

The jedi were the stuff of legend. Appearing out of nowhere when most needed. Handling even the smallest incursions with competence, insight and compassion. Then disappearing as quickly and mysteriously as they'd come. Anyone with a metal cylinder dangling at their hip was not to be taken lightly... Those who disliked violence and crime always flocked near to them. Idealists, and others.

Yet within a temple chamber, different more primal urges manifested themselves. Cross knelt in the designated trainee's position atop the mat. He meditated the way he'd been taught. Barely able to contain his excitement he fidgeted. "Distraction, feh." Castenada and he'd never gotten along, quite the opposite. But she was one of the best the Temple had to offer, and today she would instruct him.

He'd thought moving to grant the people who favored the jedi inspired way of life immigration may have been a mistake. Half expecting the kindness and naivete to dull the edge he'd labored so hard to create. How could one stay vigilant against evil, against extremes of human depravity when surrounded by sheep? It was a vigilance he found hard to muster. Dwelling in darkness amongst crime and hatred sometimes threatened to drag him down into shadowy depths. Towards a reality where he was one of them, rather than an outsider looking in.

Despite temptation however. He found it easier to prepare. To train himself to deal with darker portions of human nature when surrounded by it. It was hard to slack off when constant reminders of why he trained so hard in the first place occurred around him.

He supposed that was why he liked her. She kept him on his toes. It was something he'd come near to thrive on. No one slacked off around Castenada.

"Feh. I've seen bantha burgers wearing more." Cross muttered under his breath, knowing better than to say such things to her face. Amber hues lilted, struck breathless. Far opposite, seeming to glide into the dojo in that majestic way he always found annoying, Castenada saluted him sardonically with her middle finger and a grin. Nodding, mischievious glint illuminating bright eyes, all too conscious of the whisper of satin on her silken skin, he bowed in return stiffly, though he felt more like giggling. Feh. Since when did he giggle?

It was going to be an interesting training session.

"Apprentice." It was a familiar term, but the way she said it made it sound like she was addressing a space slug. "Apprentice, fetch my lightsaber, its there upon the bulkhead." Cross' gaze flicked curiously to his left. There glinting muted upon the bulkhead was the elegant shape of her lightsaber handle. A mere 5 meters off the floor. Gathering himself, Cross jumped. Reaching the summit of his ascent he stretched his arm forwards, attempting to grasp hold of the lightsaber almost 20 feet above his head. Not even close. He tried again. And again. And again. Gathering the force to him, he tried once more. Not even close. His gaze flickered to Castenada. She maintained that aura of Jedi serenity, though Cross could've sworn she wanted to laugh.

"Protocol droid. Fetch apprentice Cross a ladder. He does not seem to have been initiated into its use." Castenada laughed then and smiled. Oh, how she smiled.

Cross shook his head in denial. She'd gotten him. Again. He distinctly remembered wondering why someone had propped a ladder against the bulkhead beside the dojo entrance. Now he knew. Behaving casually as if nothing had happened, Castenada sipped her tea. Slender, deceptively delicate digits folding artistically about the tea cup. "You wish to say something, cupcake?" Drawing a deep breath, Cross' amber hues flicked over her. Taking in her slender yet strongly muscled form. The clear eyes that could burn like smoldering coals. Thin revealing attire nestled firmly in places that had been known to draw men like moths to a flame. Her mode of dress and attitude gave many the false impression that they knew her. That she was a mere floozy seeking attention and assurance from men to boost dwindling self esteem. Or a wench that flaunted her body on every occasion for the potential benefits. Perhaps even a tease. Did they ever get a rude awakening. Cross sighed, realizing her use of the informal phrase 'cupcake' meant the lesson was over. "You know... I aced this test." Selecting a pinstriped cushion for himself he joined her, at the table, which sat low upon the floor. "If I had known I could use a ladder, I wouldn't have tried jumping." She didn't look at him, preoccupied with her tea cup. "You assumed my request implied jumping. It was your flawed misconception blinding you to other alternatives. You made the great error of equating assumption to fact. Sillypants." She favored him with a smile to lessen the impact. Cross shook his head it was difficult for him to accept being outsmarted this way. It simply wasn't part of his life's experience. He breathed a sigh of relief thankful he'd survived his first lesson. Tension he hadn't realized existed loosening in his shoulders & elsewhere. Castenada's reputation for being a handful was legendary in some circles. Her fiercely prideful gaze met his own. A smile that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end driveling upon those lush lips. "Enough for one evening." Her eyes focused on him seeming to consider. "Excuse me, there is one thing more..." she trailed off. Cross coughed a sigh of despair. Gesturing to the thin material that barely yet elegantly covered her, she asked: "What do you think of my outfit?"

Inwardly Cross groaned. Once, a Jedi named Leonydes had petitioned the Jedi Elders enforce edicts that would force Castenada to wear clothes of a more conservative dress. The old jedi had favored robes and tunics. Many sought to follow the example and disapproved of Castenada's fierce, direct style. She had stepped on more than a few toes in her time, and like wounded gundarks they'd banded together to repay what they could not individually. An unfortunate meeting between Castenada and Leonydes later. Followed by a few heated words and Leonydes ending up in the hospital had likely influenced the Elders decision to veto the suggestion.

"Its... uhhh.. very nice." Cross managed to get out.

Castenada smiled. "Don't you forget it. Dismissed."


End file.
